


Longrun

by jaybbird



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Depression, Eventual Relationships, Excessive Cursing, Genderqueer Character, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, They're doing their best okay?, Unlikely Heroes I suppose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybbird/pseuds/jaybbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jay wakes up in the worst version of the freezer section of the supermarket you've ever seen. They do the appropriate thing and freak out, completely unprepared for the apocalypse. But it's not all bad, promise! At least, I hope....?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I really haven't shared any of my works online in years, so I'd appreciate comments on how I did at the end of the chapter! Thanks! -MJ

"Oh, fuck!" Jay exclaimed as they perched atop a table, taking potshots at the giant roaches that had been particularly keen on snacking on their Achilles’ and failing miserably to figure out how the goddamn VATS worked. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" They punctuated each curse by beating the shit out of the insects, smashing their heads with the butt of the pistol when they’d run out of bullets. Breathing heavily, they glared at the little dead things scattered around and cautiously climbed down from the table, completely unprepared for literally everything that was happening. God, so fucking unprepared. 

"I’m just a fucking lawyer," they muttered shakily, "and, and everyone’s dead, and my fucking knowledge of East Coast Patent Laws isn’t gonna fucking help me here!" Their voice rose, ringing off the metal of the shitty fucking Vault, as if God or whatever higher power would hear them and be like ‘Whoops, you’re completely right! Let me just bring you right on back to where you belong, sorry about that!’ But no such fucking luck.

They shuffled through the hallways of the big metal maze, jumping and grumbling when nothing was there and avoiding looking at the tubes they’d emerged from minutes before. At this point they had the place memorized, pacing the dingy halls, so when none of the skeletons jumped up to attack and every last console was read and every locker was opened, they made their way back.

The rise and fall of the sad, furious rollercoaster in their chest finally died down to a reasonable level and eventually, it boiled down to them pacing back and forth across the doorway with their eyes glued to their feet and their fingers wrapped tightly around an empty gun. They stopped at the cryostasis room, took a very deep breath and looked in.

Half an hour ago it was filled with people. The walls were spotless and the floor was clean. A scientist had handed them their Vault suit, their favourite shade of blue. They wanted to vomit. They wanted to cry. They wanted to move, just fucking move, you stupid fuck, _just walk to your fucking wife!_

Jarred out of it, Jay stumbled across the threshold and walked towards the pod at the end, picking up the pace with their heart thrumming as they wound up breaking into a sprint the last couple of feet, gripping the edge of the pod as it jolted them to a rough stop, hot tears spilling down their cheeks, as if they were hoping Nora would be awake and shout "BOO! I gotcha!" like she had that morning when they’d rounded the corner to the bathroom.

Oh God, they couldn’t breathe, no matter how their throat burned to sob, it all stopped and froze again, gazing at Nora’s pretty face, God it almost looked like she was smiling, _why was she smiling!?_

Jay was on their knees again, gripping for dear life to the cryopod, to Nora’s leg, to any sense of control they had over the situation. _When had the gun fallen,_ they wondered, eyes wide and brimming and wet as their knee painfully pinned the pistol to the ground, but they didn’t fucking care, why fucking care, Christ they wanted to die. Why Nora, no, no, God, why Nora, why take Nora? She’s the one who knows how to shoot a gun, she’s the one who fought in the war, that had tried to teach them to defend themselves and wound up in a giggling heap, she could do it, she could find Shaun, she couldn’t die, she couldn’t, she couldn’t. 

_**"SHE COULDN’T FUCKING DIE!"**_ Jay screamed into the ground with their face scrunched up in an ugly cry, punching the door of the pod before shrieking in pain. They gripped at their wrist, their knuckles probably bruised to hell, and they doubled over themselves, finally having let go of their vice-like grip on the corpse. It was enough to shake them out of the hiccuping loop that they were in, however, and slowly, ever so slowly, the sobbing stopped. A human puddle, yeah, that’s a good word to describe it. Their face wet, their nose running. It was probably everywhere, _fuck,_ it was probably on Nora.

"Sorry," they croaked and their lungs caught again, half expecting the usual reassurance. Luckily, after holding their breath and letting a few more tears seep out, they regained their newfound composure and tried to find their footing. It was like a baby deer standing for the first time, sloppy but manageable, and they didn’t look up lest they get a repeat performance of the breakdown. 

A glint made them pause and their eyes landed heavily on the ring that encircled Nora’s finger. Should, should they take it? The last expression of love they might find in the wasteland, wrapped around their wife’s finger? A nasty cringe, of course not, they didn’t want to, surely it’d be safe here, with her? But then, they hadn’t been safe here, _she_ hadn’t been safe here. People got in, _who_ had gotten in was a different matter. _Where they went_ was even more enticing, and _what they’re gonna do when they fucking find them_ became the Special of the Day. 

And now this… this was it, they were leaving. They had all the shit they could find, scavenged their old glasses from their locker and twisted the Pipboy on their wrist to see if it had any give. It was massive and clunky but as soon as they figured out how to work it they’d be clear as crystal. Jay knew when something was useful and a Pipboy, well, nothing could beat a Pipboy. 

Gently running their thumb over the smooth, cold metal of the ring now wrapped around their right little finger, they activated the huge round elevator that had dragged them down into this filthy tomb that tore everything from them, but not before the bombs had obliterated everything else. Holding their breath they breached the top, blinded by the sun. They freed their lungs to the fresh air as they gazed over the Sanctuary they’d left behind.

Something was wrong. Immediately, something was wrong, what was wrong, what was fucking wrong?! The trees were green and sharp, the colors of the crisp houses of the neighbourhood stretched beyond them were bright and freshly painted. This wasn’t what the wasteland looked like, this was wrong, something was very wrong.

They staggered a few steps back, preparing to run as they looked on with wide, horrified eyes. The bombs fell over Boston, the mushroom cloud impossibly large and all-encompassing and Jay watched, unable to do anything as the heatwave flew towards them, feeling their body grow hot and burn away.


	2. Snooze || Alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs alarm clocks when you've got Geiger counters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read! As always, let me know how this in turning out in the comments below!

It was so hot, so, so hot, God, they we’re burning up! Squirming and thrashing, Jay finally freed themselves from the depths of their sleeping bag, sitting up and screaming. Taking a few gulps of air the nightmare faded in the face of reality. A large crack split the sky nearby and the green clouds drifted closer, stealing their attention, Dogmeat barking in the distance. 

"Shit, _Dogmeat!"_ They called and the dog bounded over as they untangled their legs and began grabbing stuff from around the open camp. A radstorm had rolled in as they slept, broiling and foggy, making their Geiger counter go bonkers. Dogmeat helped drag their stuff into what little shelter a collapsed building could afford as the CRAM in their stomach churned. The radiation in the acid rain felt like sparklers on their skin and was only partially to blame for the nausea rocking their body as they dropped their stuff on the ground inside what was left of a house. Dogmeat shook himself off, not too much worse for wear but Jay shuffled over to a lopsided window frame and gripped it with white-knuckled hands. They curled over the edge and vomited into the remains of a long since dead hydrangea bush, their head getting woefully rained upon. 

When finished, they sunk onto the ground by the window, huffing and puffing and pissed off. Dogmeat trotted over, a Rad-X in his mouth and his big, brown eyes gazing into their own. What can you do when he gives you that look? Nothing, that’s what. Jay smirked and took the syringe, uncapping it. They straightened one of their legs and closed their eyes. Taking a few deep breaths, they begged the world to stop spinning as the storm raged not five feet away. 

It’s just like an Epipen, Jay reasoned, except they had never used an Epipen and this was a needle, a big needle. You can’t exactly stab that anywhere. But the logic is the same right, could they stab it in their leg? No, not stab, _inject._

Another deep breath and another violent lurch, making this officially the Worst. This was a stupid mistake, they should’ve known a storm was coming, they should’ve been indoors, that empty stomach was a waste of food now. Their head knocked against the thin wooden wall keeping the two of them safe from radiation poisoning, Dogmeat scuffling his way under their arm to comfort them. Okay, they could do this, they could do this.

"I can do this," their fingers clutched at the scruff around Dogmeat’s collar, warm and soft and slightly damp. Slipping their thumb onto the plunger, they opened their eyes and didn’t give themselves a minute before going for it. The needle sunk into their thigh, the plunger down and ripping it back out with less ceremony than a Vegas wedding. Letting out a muffled yell of pain Jay’s fingers tightened around Dogmeat’s collar as he whimpered in concern, the empty syringe clattering to the ground. A small amount of red spread over their thigh but quickly stopped as the site healed over. The vertigo steadied and some beads of sweat dripped down their back with a squirm. "Dog-Dogmeat," They pointed at their pack.

Dashing away only a moment, the rucksack was in their lap in seconds. They fought to pull out a can of water as they wrestled with it. Jay tossed the bag aside, breathing a little ragged as they drank greedily. Some of the water got swished around to freshen their mouth out before they poured the rest into Dogmeat’s waiting jaws. The dog lapped at the can until it was empty and was also discarded. 

Arms wrapped around the German Shepard, _does Germany still exist?_ They leaned heavily against one another with the wind howling as the great green fog whirled outside leaving the tiny makeshift shelter alone. Jay pulled the open sleeping bag across them and their dog in an attempt to get comfortable. Lighting up their Pipboy, they turned on the radio as it fuzzily came through like a beacon of life outside the dark pocket of fear. Warming up next to the cozy dog made them drowsy in their weakness as music drifted around them. Even the storm was almost muffled by the fluffy sleeping bag around their heads. 

 

Jay had barely awoke in Sanctuary Hills the first time they saw a radstorm. The nervous old ButlerBot Codsworth broke down upon the sight of them when they’d stumbled down the hill and into the street. They’d hugged him and cried, very nearly burning themselves on his jets but to be honest, they didn’t care. It really couldn’t be worse right then. He had tried so hard and was just as alone as they were now and no amounts of Sirs and Mums could change that the world had ended and fallen apart around both of them.

All his wacky arms came in handy as he tried to cheer both of them up, going around and fighting off the, goddamn, fucking terrifying vermin that seemed to head them off at every pass in what was left of their neighbors houses. Debra was dead, so was Carla and Jamie. Sam and Lucy, god, even Old Man Beaker down the cul de sac was gone. He’d yelled at them about his peonies, but look at them now Mister Beaker, they’re dead! Just like you. Just like everyone else. They’re dead. 

Jay shook themselves out of their darkening reverie as Codsworth spoke to them. "Sorry, buddy, what was that?" Ugh, their voice sounded like shit right now.

"Mum, there appears to be a storm brewing," The robot mused, swivelling about face. His eyestalks were trained on the green, low wall of storm creeping up the street, but Jay’s thoughts were on how to let the bot down slowly. And that’s when the Geiger counter started clicking, both informing them they had a Geiger counter and that if they didn’t get inside, something rather bad would probably happen to them. It was only at Codsworth’s encouragement, however, that they found themselves inside their old house, a husk of what it once was. Home. 

There was something incredibly haunting about the place but that was to be expected. It was like a bad dream, the worst dream, finding everything to be a shadow of their memories. From their bedroom, to Shaun’s room, his little crib skewed and rusted. They’d hesitated at the doorway of the nursery, halfway expecting to hear his feeble coos, or worse, find his little body laying there, abandoned. Those fears were dashed when Codsworth had passed them, hovering into the place like he’d done day in and day out before… 

God, it had only felt like an hour or so since they’d been here last. Only an hour.

Approaching the old focal point of the place felt strange as there was next to nothing left. This, this was all, an empty crib. _Christ,_ that was all? Placing their hands on the rim they felt the rust scrape against their skin. Slowly curling their fingers around the bars seemed to solidify it, holding it there. It was real and it was barren. Glancing up at the mobile, they reached out to give it a gentle spin with their fingertips. A clunk and one of the damn rockets fell off, settling into the bottom. 

"Mum?" Codsworth cautiously offered in the darkening room. "Should we get you something to eat?" They almost laughed. He was so familiar. So much like what they’d left behind.

Jay nodded and the robot floated closer. They placed their palm against his casing as he led them back towards the kitchen. They’d found a little food in the Vault, the fucking Vault, and sat on the floor in the living room. Codsworth insisted that he should cook something but there was simply nothing left other than radroach meat and Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. Funny, almost, the two things they’d joked would survive until the end of the world and they had. 

Them, and Jay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope things are starting to lighten up! If you spot any mistakes, let me know, and tell me what you think. Poor Jay....

**Author's Note:**

> I really hoped you enjoyed this... uh, whatever this thing is! I promise it is not going to stay this incredibly bleak, though I won't lie I did get really worked up and cried while writing this. Sole never really gets upset over everything that happened, and if a regular old lawyer were to fall into the apocalypse, I would be weeping uncontrollably. Of course, I think I've made it abundantly clear I already weep uncontrollably. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
